The appointment
by Apl9662
Summary: Short story about James Henry and the Doc


**The appointment.**

'NEXT PATIENT', Dr. Martin Ellingham shouted when the door clicked in the slot behind the previous patient.

A few moments later the door was opened carefully and slowely closed again. Without looking up from the patient's notes he was updating, he said,

'Come through, take a seat, I will be with you in a moment'. He continued writing, but caught in the corner of his eyes a glimpse of the wellknown Portwenn Primary school uniform, a white shirt, grey trousers and a dark green pullover.

Martin finished his task by shifting the patient's notes back in its sleeve. He then looked up to see who sat in front of him.

'James, what are you doing here? Is something wrong?'

While he said that, Martin jumped up from his chair bruskly, rounded his desk and touched his son's forehead with two fingers. A gesture James was completely used too, his father did that ever since he was a baby. Reassured that his son wasn't feverish, Martin returned to his chair and sat down again.

'Dad... Can we talk? I asked Morwenna to squeeze me in and she made me an apointment, because.. because I am not allowed to disturb you when you... during surgery hours...'

Martin wished to ask his usual questions, 'Do you have a genuin medical issue to discuss with me?', but swallowed the sentence just in time. His nearly eight year old son knew the rules very well, so it must be something really urgent that bothered him. Martin decided to take his son's request seriously, so he picked up the phone and called his receptionist.

'Morwenna, could you bring me the patient's notes of James Henry Ellingham please, bitrhdate..'

His receptionist interrupted him.

'I know your son's birthday doc, they are coming right away.'

A few seconds later, the door reopened and Morwenna entered with James's notes.

'He is your last patient doc', Morwenna added and picked up the stack of patient notes from the desk, to store them.

Pointing at the stack of notes, Martin said, 'Very well, when you're finished with that, you can go home.'

'Jee, thanks doc, have a nice evening! You too James!'

Once the door closed behind Morwenna, Martin took of his suit jacket of. He knew it would make his son feel more comfortable. Then he said to James,

'Yes James.. Now we can talk. What's up your sleeve?'

The slender boy hesitated and shrugged, not exactly knowing how to start. His eartips reddened when he finally asked,

'Dad, when you were bullied in the past, how did you cope with that?'

Martin was fully taken by surprise, he hadn't seen this one coming. Just like his son's, his eartips reddened. For a moment he was flabbergastered and didn't know what to answer. He had never spoken much about the torments of his youth. He had always thought it was no one elses business. Louisa knew that he hadn't had loving parents and, as a professional working with small children, she had also asumed that other children must have bullied him in the boarding schools he attended, but he had never given much details about it. To him, the constant trying - without result - to finally please his parents and get some regards or love in return had hurt him much, much more than the bullying at school.

He swallowed hard and gestured his son to come closer. James stood up and walked towards his father. Martin lifted the boy and seated him on his desktop, in order to become face to face with the boy. Protectively he placed his large hands on top of James's upperlegs to stabilize him. He scrutinized his son's face.

'What makes you think I was bullied when I was your age?', he asked.

'Oh come on dad... Look at your huge ears..and your strange mouth! Surely that must have been a source for funny names!', James replied with bravoure, but when he thought about his own bullies, his bravoure crumbled like a shortbread biscuit and tears welled up in his eyes.

'Hmmm... Is that what they are doing with you? Calling you names?' James nodded, trying hard to withhold his tears. Without succes... He bent over reaching out to his father and Martin pulled his son towards him in a conforting embrace. James wrapped his arms around his father's chest and pressed his face against Martin's shoulder. His whole little body was shaking while he sobbed, freeing all the tears he had probably witheld quite some time.

'Shush, ssshh', Martin said, gently stroking the boy's small back.

'Calm down, James, I am here for you, we were supposed to talk, hmm?'

After a few minutes, James sobs turned into incidental snifs. Martin shifted the boy a bit, put his left arm around him, retrieved his neatly folded hankerchief from his pocket, unfolded it and wiped his boys face.

'Blow your nose and you'll feel much better', he added.

James, felt comfortable on his father's lap, it seemed that the problem was already solved for more than fifty percent. That happened all the time with daddy, he made you feel safe, he thought.

'James, did something happen at school today? Can you tell me about it?'

James shrugged.

'... We were playing cowboys and indians during the morning break. I was an indian and we all gave each other names indians would have, like Goldilocks - I thought that name suited Emily Braithwaite... because of her beautiful golden brown curls - and then Timmy Richardson..'

James's lower lip trembled, but he didn't start to cry again.

'Yes?...', his father encouraged him.

He said.. He said.. He called me Son-of-tosser...'

New tears welled up, but he swallowed them away. He added indignantly

'But you are no tosser, daddy, you are the best father in the world and a brilliant doctor!'

Martin's eyes softened to the maximum. For a moment, he embraced his son a little firmer and answered

'That's sweet of you to say, but..'

'It's true!' exclamed James

'Well, James, people, especially in this village, don't always like it that I always tell the truth. Even when is it's unpleasant to hear for them. But a doctor shouldn't tell the patients lies, then they loose faith in your diagnosis. Do you understand that?' The boy nodded hesitantly.

'You mean that when you tell lies and they find out about them, the people don't believe you anymore when you say it's only a virus?'

'Yes, but because the truth is sometimes hard, they think I am a tosser. That's no excuse for calling you Son-of-tosser, of course, since you have nothing to do with it... When I tell you that I don't bother being called a tosser, does that make it easier for you?'

James shrugged again

'It's still not fair! You are NOT a tosser!'

'Thank you son', Martin answered. Then he asked, a bit hesitantly

'Tell me James, shouldn't this have been a subject to discuss with your mother at school?'

'Well...', the boy replied, 'She would have been in "teacher's mode" in a sec..'

'What do you mean by that?', Martin was clueless, but James was happy to explain it.

'You know, at school, mummy is quite different. She seems to be afraid that the children and the other teachers think she favours me over the others.. And than she starts investigating and everyone involved is interviewd. Quite anoying, honestly. Mum would be good as a DCI or a private investigator.'

'And would have made things worse?'

'Hm.. yes... because mummy would have given Timmy one of her famous headmistress speeches and then...'

'Timmy would start to call you a sniveling little mummy's boy? Martin completed him. 'I see'.

'James, a very wise woman.. your mother... taught me once that it's best to let them tease you. After a while, you'll become one of them. And even if they still call me a tosser, because they don't like to hear the truth, that's no problem.. You see they all come to the surgery when they are ill, so don't you think that's because I have become one of them?'

James nodded. Then Martin added.

'Take the same advice and you'll also become one of them, James. And I'll write you some perscriptions too...'

He gestured his son to go back to the patient's chair and started writing on his perscription pad.

James shifted nervously in his chair, when he saw his father writing on at least three different pages. That looked quite serious!

Finally, Martin screwed the cap on his fountain pen and tore off the sheets of paper.

'Here you are, hand that to Timmy and two of the other children you played indian and cowboys with.

'What is it, dad?'

'It's an invitation for your friends to come and have tea with us next week. Tosser, Son-of-tosser and DCI Ellingham will serve them a perfectly healthy, nutrious and delicious meal. To speed up the process.. Up to you to assure that they wash their hands before the meal!'

James slid from his chair and gave his father a hug.

'All right, all right.. let's close the surgery and see if your mother is home already. She'll be worried if she won't find you in you Lego corner'.

James ran off to the kitchen. His mother just entered through the back door.

'Mummy, mummy look what daddy did!', he shouted, starting to tell the story from the end.

'Calm down James', Martin, who entered the kitchen as well, 'give your mother a chance to take off her coat first. Tell her about it during tea, alright?'

'Yes dad.. can you please put the kettle on quickly then? I can't wait!' And then he ran to his mother to hug her. Martin followed his example in a more modest way. He bent towards her and kissed her on her cheek.

'Wow boys, what a welcome!', Louisa exclaimed, giving them her loveliest smile, 'where did that come from?

'We just love you, mum. You and daddy are the best!'

Martin totally agreed with his son's statement.. he smiled!

The end


End file.
